


To Love A Dying Star

by peterplanet



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 14:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterplanet/pseuds/peterplanet
Summary: in which she thinks about the first time that she knew she was in love with peter, despite the fact that she doesn’t know what love is.





	To Love A Dying Star

Loving Peter Parker was like loving a dying star. She knew that she didn’t have forever with him, she could never love him into an eternity because they’re both just kids. They’re young; so young that people don’t know what it means to be in love at their age, but she would swear up and down that she knows what it’s like to love Peter Parker, even though she might not know what it’s like to be in love.

And it’s a conundrum. She would be the first person to admit that it doesn’t make any sense when she says it out loud, but the constellations of this thought make sense inside of the galaxy that is her mind. If she thinks it, it is  _real_ and  _valid_  and does not contradict itself; however, when she breathes stardust to the constellations, they come crashing down at her converse sneakers in front of the quizzical eyes of her friends, of her family.

(Y/N) knows that she loves Peter Parker. If there is one constant in this galaxy, one known fact in this lifetime that they’ll live and die with, she knows that it’s her love for Peter Parker and his love for her. They’re both just dying stars, constellations crashing into each other as they spin at top-speeds through a constantly-expanding universe that is much greater than they could ever hope to be.

“So, how do you know that you love him?” MJ asks over lunch one day. The frizzy-haired girl doesn’t have a book propped open in front of her for once and (Y/N) is the sole captor of her attention. “If you don’t know what love is.”

And once more, (Y/N) is left to explain herself. She breathes in a sigh, shakes her head, and musters up the best smile that she can as she attempts to explain herself.

“I mean, I guess I just  _know_. It just makes sense when I think about it, I guess. There have been moments where I knew, where I could feel it, but that’s…this is something that I feel, I guess. Something that makes sense.”

MJ doesn’t seem pleased with this description. Her quizzical eyes bore into (Y/N)’s and she seems surprised by the broken constellations that are now lying on the table before them. It doesn’t make sense to anyone besides (Y/N) and Peter, but maybe that’s for the best. Maybe love is something that’s best when it doesn’t make sense.

* * *

 _The first moment_ that (Y/N) knew that she loved Peter was when he crawled through her bedroom window for the first time. He’d done it plenty of times before, sure, when he’d climbed up her fire-escape when they were kids and he was feeling dangerous, but this was the first time that he’d crawled through after a night of patrolling.

His suit was still on, his mask was off, and she had to stifle a scream. Before this moment, she hadn’t known that he was Spider-Man. She hadn’t known that he was the web-slinging hero of Queens, didn’t know that it was him that had been patrolling the streets for so long. She didn’t know that it was Peter Parker,  _her_ Peter Parker, that had been given a churro from a woman for helping her. But now that he was in her bedroom, his suit still on his body as he panted on her floor, it made sense.

All of the dates that he had cancelled, all of the times that he had fallen asleep in class, all of the times that he showed up to school with black-eyes and bruises scattering his form, it all made  _sense._ Of course Peter Parker, her Peter Parker, would be Spider-Man. There wasn’t a boy as sweet as him or as good as him in all of Queens; (Y/N) would even go so far as to say that there wasn’t a boy as sweet as him or as good as him in all of New York, maybe even the whole  _world._

“Peter,” she breathed in a soft whimper as she fell by his side, noticing that he was breathing shakily and his face was screwed up in pain. “What happened? Where does it hurt?”

“I-I was,  _fuck_ ,” he hissed out in pain as he eased himself up into a sitting position. “I was following these guys because they were talking about robbing Delmar’s, a-and I can’t let that happen, y’know, he makes my sandwiches a-and—”

She stopped his rambling, his sweet rambling that she’d usually let him continue with, because he’s on her bedroom floor, in pain, and he’s  _Spider-Man._ In (Y/N)’s eyes, there are more pressing matters than how Peter takes his sandwiches (and she knows his order by heart, anyways).

“I know, bub, I know,” she assured him as she pulled him into her side. “He smushes them down flat for you, and you always say hello to Murph. I know that you love that place, but can you explain how you wound up like this to me?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed in a whimper of pain as she searched his face for any bruises. As far as (Y/N) could see, there were none.

“So, I heard them talking about robbing Delmar’s and I swooped down to stop them—it was really kind of badass, actually—and then they had guns, and I panicked, and I got a few good punches in before they shot the gun—a-and I moved fast enough, y’know, with my webs—b-but he shot his friend and…and I just paged Mr. Stark on my suit a-and I left because I didn’t know what to do. And then, I came here because I panicked, and I couldn’t go back to May this freaked out and I’m sorry, fuck, what if they saw me come in here? What if they know you and they know that you’re connected to Spider-Man?  _Oh my God,_ you didn’t know that I was Spider-Man, (Y/N), shit, fuck, I-I…”

And, like any good girlfriend would do in this situation, (Y/N) leaned in to kiss him softly. Her lips brushed his and she cradled his cheek in her hand, keeping the kiss brief. She made sure that her nose brushed his as she pulled away because she knew how that comforted him, knew how sweet he found it.

“Peter fucking Parker,” she breathed out in a soft laugh, “you are the dumbest boy I’ve ever met. I don’t care that you’re Spider-Man, I just wish you would have  _told me_ , but I understand why you didn’t. And if you would’ve gotten shot tonight, I would’ve beat you up. The criminals on the streets of Queens should never be your concern, because if you get hurt, I’m going to fucking  _kill_ your head-ass.”

She leaned in to kiss him softly to show him that she was joking, to show that she was just  _so glad_ that he wasn’t dead. That she was glad that he was still alive, despite how big of a head-ass he was.

“If you need somewhere to go after a night out, you can come here, okay?” She assured him in that soft tone of hers that always made Peter’s eyes soft. Then again, everything that she did tended to make his eyes soft. “We can cuddle until you have to go back home to May, or I can make you some food, or get you some water. I’d rather you come here and get it all off that chest of yours than you keep it bottled up in that over-analytical brain you’ve got.”

(Y/N) leaned up to kiss his forehead, her hand splayed against his chest above his heart. She could feel how erratically it was beating, feel how nervous he seemed to be with her in her bedroom.

“S-So, you’re not mad at me for not telling you that I’m Spider-Man?” His voice was so broken in that moment that (Y/N) wanted to kick herself or the bad guys on the streets of Queens.

“’Course not, Peter,” she assured him once more, her tone still soft and sweet as a smile splayed across her lips. “I could never be mad at you, y’know that? Annoyed, maybe, but not mad. It’s hard to be mad at your boyfriend when you’re in love with him.”

It hadn’t been a pre-meditated thought, really. (Y/N) had just said it because she knew that she meant it, because she knew that it was right. She knew that she wouldn’t go around Queens kicking asses and taking names for just anyone, and she knew that Peter was special to her. Just like it made sense that Peter was Spider-Man, it made sense to (Y/N) that she loved him.

“You love me?” He had breathed so reverently as he leaned in to kiss her, almost as though he was scared that he would break her if he spoke too loudly.

“I-I do, yeah.” Her voice had cracked, but (Y/N)’s truth didn’t falter. “I love you.”

“That’s good,” he had replied in that dorky way of his, the way that was so Peter Parker that it almost hurt, “because I kind of love you, too.”

And then, he had leaned in to kiss her gently, almost as though he thought she’d break under the weight of his confession mingled with a heavy kiss. With this reverence, this adoration that only Peter could have, (Y/N) had realized that loving Peter Parker was the best decision she could have ever made.


End file.
